The Boyfriend Box
by Weaving Radiance
Summary: "Over the course of my life I've had 5 boyfriends. Each one gave me something special, something that I was never selfless enough to give back. So I kept them in this box. I ask my husband, Ron Weasley, to give each item back to them after I've passed." ABANDONNED
1. The Funeral

_**~~The Boyfriend Box~~  
**__**~by Realmweaver~**_

* * *

**1. The Funeral**

_Over the course of my life I've had five boyfriends. Each one gave me something special, something for me to remember them by, something that I was never selfless enough to give back to them. So I kept them in a box, one that lies under my bed, all the way in the corner. I ask my husband, Ron Weasley, to give each item back to them after I've passed._

**~TBB~**

It's ironic, don't you think, that on the saddest of days, it's usually the sunniest? The irony was like a punch in the gut for me; it was an insult to her memory. Why should the day be happy when no one else was, when _I _wasn't? The sky was laughing at me in the face, and I just wanted to tear it down and chuck it in the rubbish bin.

I pulled on a set of black dress robes, wearing a grey button down, a black tie, and black slacks underneath, my heart feeling as if it weighed a million pounds.

Does it make sense to you that a woman, not even twenty five years old, should die from cancer after winning a bloody _war_? No, it didn't make sense to me either.

I was checking myself in the mirror, making sure that nothing was out of place, when my sister, Ginny, walked in wearing dark blue dress robes. She wasn't wearing any mascara, or at least not as much as she usually did, or any other makeup, for the matter. I guessed that she didn't want to mess it up while she was crying, which made sense. Having tears streaking down your face looked so much more dignified than smeared make up.

"Are you ready?" Ginny asked, twirling her engagement ring around her finger nervously. The fact that she and Harry were going to get married in a few months still felt weird to me, even though I should have seen it coming years and years ago. Actually, the ceremony was supposed to take place many months before, but that was before… well, before everything else had happened.

"Nearly," I replied, trying to straighten my tie.

"Here, let me do that," she said as I succeeded in screwing it up even further. As she set it straight, I let out a long sigh.

"I can't believe she's gone," Ginny murmured as she patted my chest when she finished.

"Neither can I," I said.

"Do you miss her more than you thought you would, after hearing that she'd…"

"Yes," I said immediately, the memory of the day still sharp in my mind.

**~TBB~**

_We were in a muggle hospital, foul, sharp smells ricocheting off the walls and shooting up my nostrils. There were loads of people milling around, barely looking up from their clipboards as they went, but somehow never bumping into any one. _

_I was walking down the hall with Harry next to me and Ginny on his other side, avoiding the weird stares that we were getting because of our clothes. Neither of us had bothered to whip off our work robes when we came, rushing here as soon as possible._

_The three of us entered her room, where she was sleeping, her skin a pale grey and her eyes ringed with purple. I watched her chest rise and fall, hoping that it would keep rising and falling for a long time. _

_I should've known better._

_The doctor came in, a tall, brown-haired man with glasses and heavy eye brows, and a name tag that read "Dr. Jonathan Lark"._

"_Sh," Ginny said as he came in. "She's sleeping."_

"_I'm sorry that you came here so fast; there was no need to, and I'm sure that it caused you an inconvenience," he whispered, his eyes looking incredibly sad. My heart began to pound hard in my chest, threatening to punch a hold in my chest._

"_No," I said. "We wanted to hear what you had to say as soon as possible."_

_Dr. Lark took a deep breath, and I could tell what he was going to say moments before he said it. _

"_Hermione Granger has three months to live."_

**~S~**

After that she had insisted she go back to our flat, just one more time. She sent me off into the living room for some strange reason while she spent a bit of time in our room. When she came back she refused to tell me what she had been doing, but held a large brown, wooden box in her hand, the size of a small luggage. I never asked what was in it, or how she even picked it up, it looked so heavy.

Harry came in then. "They're about to start," he said hoarsely.

I nodded, and me and Ginny walked out of my room and onto the front lawn.

Hermione had insisted that the funeral be held outside the Burrow. She had joked that it felt like her own home to her, but only with more lawn space.

The decorations looked beautiful, sort of like Bill and Fleur's wedding, only darker and smaller. I walked down the aisle of our little make-shift chapel, counting faces as I passed.

Dean Thomas… Seamus Finnegan… Lavender Brown… the Patil Twins… Neville Longbottom... Luna Lovegood… Viktor Krum… Hagrid, McGonagall, Teddy Lupin… the rest of my family…And there were a few others there, people that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had invited.

I spotted a man about my age, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. And a woman, a few years younger, her hair tied back in a blond braid, who was leaning on his shoulder with tears down her face. I looked away, not eager to see more people cry over Hermione.

Ginny, Harry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and I took up the front row to the right. All of us were going to say a few words about Hermione.

"Dearly beloved…" the priest (who, by the way, also married Hermione and I) began, but I wasn't listening. I knew I should, considering it was my wife's funeral, but I contented myself thinking of other, more important things. Like the moment me met, for instance. I almost forgot that moment for a few years, recollecting it quickly in fourth year after the Yule Ball, when I started feeling something towards her that I could never put into words, not even now.

"Ron," Ginny suddenly hissed at me, poking her elbow into my ribs. "Ron, it's your turn, the Grangers have just stepped down!"

"Oh," I muttered, walking up to the podium to the left of the altar, and pulling out the little scraps of paper scribbled with ideas that I tucked into my robes earlier that morning.

"Sorry," I said as I dropped one and bent down to retrieve it. I shuffled them in my hands, staring out into the crowd that was staring at me with wet eyes, and cleared my throat. Then I tucked away my note cards and decided to just wing it.

"I'll start by saying something that we all know," I began. "Hermione Granger was the smartest witch of our age." Murmurs of agreement rolled through the makeshift chapel.

"She's had it said to her many times, and I'm sure that you've all said it to your friends or family at least once. Along with that, she was bossy, stubborn, smothering, and a right know-it-all every once in a while… but she was brilliant, and that's what she'll be remembered for.

"But I don't want you to remember her as being brilliant; top of the class; a straight O student. Because Hermione was so much _more _than that." I took a deep breath, and went on. "She was brave, determined, loyal, a quick-thinker, and always had me and Harry's back. She was Ginny's best girl friend, Neville's best tutor, and never let any of us down. She worked as hard as she could and would never settle for less than best.

"The truth is, me and Harry needed Hermione a lot more than she needed us. You could tell. We would have never figured out half the things we did if she weren't with us. We depended on her smarts all the time, for stuff like Transfiguaration homework, or something more important like finding out the Heir of Slytherin. Sorry, Professor," I said, nodding at McGonagall. I got a few nice chuckles from that.

"Out of all the qualities Hermione had, I would never have said smarts were her finest. That's not what made her the best. It was her never-ending loyalty and her ability to stick to something, or someone, forever. She's always stood by her friends, and her work, and that's what made her who she was.

"It's sad thing, losing someone you love," I continued, measuring everyone's expressions carefully as I was planning to wrap it up.

"But it's even worse when that someone was Hermione. I pray for her soul, and ask for you to, as well. Pray for the woman who was so much more than genius."

And I stood down from the podium, hoping that what I had said was good enough. I sat down next to Ginny, and she smiled and squeezed my hand as Harry stood up to give the last speech before refreshments.

**~TBB~**

There was music playing in the background, as people flitted around the lawn swapping stories and snacks. Hagrid sat in the corner, taking sips of wine and talking to Mr. Weasley in a quiet, somber voice. I stood at one of the refreshment tables as people passed me to give their condolences.

I met with the muggle, brown-haired man that Mr. and Mrs. Granger invited. Turns out he was an old childhood friend of Hermione's. The younger blonde woman was a girl she used to babysit in the summer. It felt weird, meeting people that Hermione had lived with all her life but had never mentioned to us.

Those were all the muggles that came. And they knew about wizards, too, which surprised me. But they had assured me that Hermione had told them with greatest confidence they wouldn't tell anyone else, and they never had.

After that I was by myself for a while, so I just swayed slowly to the music they were playing.

"Hello, Ronald."

I turned around and saw Luna Lovegood staring at me, her eyes a calm and clear shade of blue.

"Hello, Luna. How are you?"

"I don't think it really matters how _I _feel," she said, surprising me, as usual, with her honest, straight-forward answers. "I'm not the one who lost my spouse." I stared at her, and she looked down, finger a ring. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Hermione and I never saw eye to eye, but I am going to miss her a lot. And I know how much you and Harry loved her.

"If it makes you feel any better, I believe there's a heaven. And I think that Hermione's there right now, looking down on us and grinning," Luna said, a small smile flitting over her face.

"Thanks, Luna," I said, choking on my words. This was the most reassuring conversation I had had all day, counting the ones with Ginny and my parents.

"I can almost hear her voice…" Luna said. Then she started reciting what seemed to be song lyrics. "_Where ever you go, I will be waiting. Whenever you call, I will be there. Whatever it takes, I'll make your darkest days so bright. I'm in your heart tonight."_

She smiled again. "I bet she's waiting for you," she said, and turned floated away.

**~TBB~**

The funeral was over, and all the guests had left. Harry had gone back to Number 12, but Ginny decided to stay with us for a while. I was sitting on the couch, reading a book that I had pulled off the shelf at random.

"Ron."

I looked up, and Ginny was walking towards me, carrying a large wooden box. I recognized it as the box Hermione had lugged out of our room so long ago. Ginny sat on the couch beside me, setting the box between us.

"She asked me to give this to you," she said. "There's a letter on the top, and it's addressed to you."

My eyes widened as I spotted the envelope on the top. I ripped it off the lid and tore it open, recognizing her perfect handwriting.

_The Boyfriend Box_

_Over the course of my life I've had five boyfriends. Each one gave me something special, something for me to remember them by, something which I was never selfless enough to give back to them. So I kept them in a box, one that lies under my bed, all the way in the corner. I ask my husband, Ron Weasley, to give the items back to them after I've passed._

_Each parcel inside this box has a number on it. Only by giving the parcel to the person it is addressed to, will the next parcel in the sequence reveal the next name. It must be done in this order. Start from five._

_I'll miss you all, and hope that you'll remember me. And I'm sorry for never telling you these stories to you; I hope you'll forgive me. _

_Good luck, and I love you._

_-Hermione._

"Let me see," Ginny said after I finished, taking the piece of parchment from my hands. She scanned it quickly, and must've read it again because it took her so long, and looked up at me.

"How odd," she said. "I can't believe that she's dated anyone other than you or Viktor Krum. That makes for three boyfriends that we never knew about; four if she decided not to include Krum."

I nodded numbly, but wasn't really paying attention.

_Five boyfriends, _I thought to myself. _She's had five boyfriends in her life. _

"Can we open the box now?" Ginny asked.

"Why not?" I said, and she lifted the lid.

We both peered inside and found five different sized parcels, all wrapped in plain, tan paper with a number stuck on its side. None of them had names, except for number five: Blake Thornley. Scribbled under the name was an address somewhere in New York City, America.

"Boyfriend number one," Ginny muttered. "So, what now?"

It took me a while to answer. I was still a bit shocked at the revelation that Hermione had dated anyone besides me, much less three other people (not counting Viktor Krum). "I think I should visit this Thornley fellow soon," I finally replied.

"Tomorrow, then. When will we leave?"

"_We?_" I said. "Who says that you were going to come with me?"

"Well I was Hermione's best friend," she answered, looking indignant. I caught the "was", and felt the back of my eyes begin to tingle.

"I don't think you should come, Gin," I said. "I think this job was just meant for me. I think that's the way Hermione planned it."

"I want to meet these people, too," Ginny argued. "I _need _to come with you."

"Then what will Harry do? Just sit here and twiddle his thumbs until we get back?" I flung in the Fiancé card at her, hoping she would take it.

Ginny looked thoughtful after that. "Harry can come with us."

Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.

"No, Gin. I'm doing this alone," I insisted. "It's how Hermione wanted it."

"How would you know that?" Ginny said. "Did she entrust you with the box in the first place?"

I didn't know what to say to that; but I definitely wasn't saying she was right.

"Exactly. So I'm going with you, and there's no way you're going to change my mind."

* * *

**A/N:**

The lyrics are from Amber Pacific's song, _Gone So Young. _I do not own these lyrics, nor am I trying to make money off them. So please don't sue me ^_^


	2. Twilight

**2. Twilight**

The next day the two of us—Harry didn't want to come; you'd think this would signal Ginny to just back off, but my sister is as stubborn as what—stood outside a tall building in the middle of New York. It was a highly modern, polished place with a doorman and all the bells and whistles.

I was glad that Hermione had taken me into New York at least once, because now I didn't feel like a complete idiot among all these muggle things. Still, I felt like a tourist, but not a wizard tourist. Not like Dad.

Before leaving this morning I had thought hard about what I would say when I met this first boyfriend. Blake Thornley. I wondered what he did for a living and how things had gone between him and Hermione. It would be really awkward if things ended badly between them, and that was one part I wasn't looking forward to.

I'd inspected the parcel almost all night, trying to figure out what was inside. It was a long, flat box, about the size of a piece of paper. Was it a book? Knowing Hermione, that's what I would have guessed. But the box was much too light to have a book in it.

Ginny had suggested a drawing. Maybe Thornley was an artist, and he had given Hermione a painting.

Very possible, I supposed, but something didn't feel _right_ about that. At around one o'clock I had given up and gathered the parcel along with its neighbors and the wooden box and went back to our flat.

That morning I had met Ginny at the Burrow, and with a solemn "good morning" and "good bye" from Harry, we apparated into New York and eventually navigated our way to Blake Thornley's apartment.

We walked into the lobby and a man was standing behind the front desk, typing furiously on a white… oh, what are they called… laptop. A white laptop. "Yes?" he said as Ginny and I approached the desk, gently closing the screen.

"We're looking for a fellow by the name of Blake Thornley," Ginny said. "In which suite would he might be in?"

My sister could be polite and charming when she wanted to be; too bad she wasn't always so friendly with me.

"And what business would you have with Mr. Thornley?"

"We have something to give him. A gift from an old friend of his, recently deceased." She held up the box for him to see.

_Deceased? _I almost said. _Since when does Ginny say words like _deceased_?_

The man nodded seriously. "Of course." He took out a…er… laminated slip of paper from the drawer of his desk.

"Thornley…" the man said as he ran his finger down the list. "Ah, yes, Blake Thornley. Suite 49, on the fourth floor. At the end of the hall, miss."

"Thank you," I said and followed Ginny as she headed towards a row of lifts.

"These are so different from the lifts at the ministry," Ginny commented as I pressed the button near the doors. Very true. They were a lot less rickety, and they looked a lot newer. The ministry was the only building in Wizarding Britain to have lifts, anyway, so it made sense that they were so decrepit compared to these. The door opened and we got inside.

"Look Ron," Ginny said. I followed her gaze. She was looking at a little black screen with the number _2_ glowing in red, which slowly changed to _3_.

"Yeah," I said. "They count how many floors you're going up."

"Brilliant," she said softly.

With a quiet _ding _the doors opened to the fourth floor and we stepped out. The first door was to our left, with a 41 tacked on in silver numbers. The hall was a straight line and at the other end was a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the city streets below.

"Fancy, this place is," Ginny commented. I nodded my agreement.

We walked to the end of the hall and stood before a door on the left with the number 49 on it.

"Ready?" I said, my index finger poised over the buzzer.

"For what?"

I sighed and pressed down.

For a minute I thought there was no one home. How awkward that would have been, to come here with so much drama building, and not have him be home.

But the door eventually opened after a few seconds, revealing a young man maybe a year or two older than me, with pale blond hair and a narrow face. He reminded me of Malfoy, a bit, except that his hair was much longer—tied back in a ponytail, like Bill's—and his features were not as pointy or unfriendly.

"Yes? How may I help you?" he said with an American accent. I wondered how Hermione met him, because obviously he wasn't born British. I noticed he was about a half-head shorter than me; probably two or three inches taller than Hermione was.

I didn't answer right away; too busy with my inspection. _So Hermione used to go out with this guy. _

Ginny elbowed me.

"Oh, yes. Hello. Are you Blake Thornley?"

"Yes."

"Er… I'm Ron Weasley, and this is my sister, Ginny. We're… we're friends of Hermione's. Hermione Granger."

I decided to leave out the part that I was her husband for now. _First let's get into the flat, _I thought.

"Oh," he said. "Wow. I haven't seen Hermione in… well… more than ten years now. Wow," he repeated. "How is she doing?"

"Er…" I couldn't seem to get the words out. I could feel my eyes heat up, and water collect behind them. I took a deep breath.

"She—she passed away," Ginny said for me. "About a week ago."

"Oh," Blake said, his face drooping. There was a slight pause. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you," Ginny and I said as he stepped back and we stepped forward.

The flat was large and spacious, obviously expensive. The furnishings were not, though; the living room was made up of a few bookshelves lining the walls, a sofa, a chair, a coffee table, and a huge grand piano. A guitar, a violin, a bass, and three other cases that I assumed held instruments leaned against the walls or against stands. The coffee table was covered with piles and piles of music books and sheet music, some printed on with music and other with notes scrawled in. Hermione told me just enough about music for me to see that this bloke was a good composer.

"Sit down," Blake said, gesturing to the couch. "Would you like something to drink?"

"A water would be nice," Ginny said.

"No thanks," I said.

He came over with a glass and handed it to Ginny, then sat down on the chair opposite the couch.

Blake cleared his throat. "How… How did she die?" he said after we'd settled down.

"Something called cancer," Ginny said.

I elbowed her. For muggles, cancer was a pretty common disease. How could she have let that one slip?

Blake looked confused for a second, but the expression passed. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Hermione and I were very good friends." Ginny and I glanced at each other. According to Hermione they had been more than just "good friends". "I'd lost contact with her about eight years ago."

"She left something for you," Ginny said, pulling out the box from her bag. "After she died. She said that you gave it to her. And she wanted you to have it back after she was gone."

She handed the box to Blake who stared at it for an instant before saying, "Do you know what's inside?"

"She… she told us that she didn't want us to open it," I sort of lied. It was true-she didn't want us to open it. But she never really told us that. What really happened was that Hermione put a spell on it so only Blake could open it. I had thought about opening it and slowly reached my hands for the box the night before, but before I could even touch it my hand was thrown back by some sort of force field. Fifteen minutes passed before the box let me touch it again, and I didn't try to open it.

I wasn't sure how much Hermione had told Blake, and I figured it was safer to lie than to give anything away about the whole magic thing.

When Blake didn't move to open the parcel, I took the opportunity to ask, "How close exactly were you and Hermione? Did she tell you anything… strange?"

Blake shook his head. "Hermione was a very extraordinary girl, but not strange."

There. That settled it. Blake definitely didn't know anything about Hermione being a witch.

"As for how close we were… well, for a while we went out. For a summer when we were much, much younger. Actually…" Blake's face turned a pale shade of pink. "She was my first kiss."

I wanted so badly to be able to say, "Mine too." But she wasn't. And I regretted it so much now. If only I hadn't fooled around with Lavender… I would have been able to say "Hermione Granger was my first kiss." That would've been brilliant.

But I was an idiot and a git back then, and I paid for it now.

"Would you like to see what's inside, too?" Blake asked, interrupting my train of thought.

"That would be nice," Ginny said.

"All right."

He pulled the paper wrapping off the box slowly, delicately, and opened the box.

He looked down at the contents of the box and took a deep breath.

He wiped at his eyes.

"I can't believe she kept this," he whispered to himself.

I almost craned my neck to see inside the box, but decided that would have been rude.

"It's… It's a song. It's a song I wrote for her." He held up a little booklet with a dark blue cover and the word _TWILIGHT _written in all capitals in silver ink. It was tied together with a gold string. "She was thirteen, and I was fourteen when I gave it to her. I was staying the summer with my grandmother, who lived in the same neighborhood as she did. I wrote this piece for her before she went back to her boarding school; she said she wouldn't be able to write, and the school didn't allow cell phones."

Very true. Hermione told me that muggle electricity didn't work well in the castle because of the amount of magic, and it would have been hard to explain why an owl was delivering their letters.

Blake stared at the booklet. "Would you like to hear it?" he asked.

"Yes," Ginny said.

"If you don't mind," I added.

He stood up and walked over to the piano, sitting down at the keys. He placed the booklet on the top of the piano and gave a shaky laugh. "I still remember how to play it by heart. How crazy is that?"

I just smiled sadly in response.

He set his fingers on the keys, and began playing.

It started with a simple melody, arpeggios—I think that's what their called—climbing up and down the first half of the keys at a slow, simple pace. Then, notes in the lower half were added, gradually making their way down towards the last octave.

It was a beautiful song, so very Hermione; simple, beautiful, deep, powerful and yet delicate at the same time.

As he played, I reached up and plucked the booklet off the piano. And to my surprise, I was thrown into a... a memory, I gussed. Hermione must have charmed the booklet, knowing I would want to hold it and see it up close.

It felt like jumping into a pensieve, based on what Harry had told me about his experiences with them. I could see everything and everyone around me, but they couldn't see me.

A very young Hermione—thirteen years old—and a blonde boy I guessed was Blake were walking into a room, holding hands. The fact didn't bother me as much as it would have when we were at Hogwarts; I guess it was a comfort to know that she had picked me, and no one else. I'd stopped being jealous as soon as she said "I do".

Sunlight dropped through the windows and onto a black grand piano quite like the one Blake was playing back in reality.

"I want to show you something," he said, sitting down on the piano bench. "Well, maybe not _show _you something. More like play you something."

Hermione grinned. I remembered; this was before she'd gotten her teeth fixed. "All right." She sat down on the piano next to him.

Blake's fingers stood poised over the keys and then he began playing. _Twilight. _The song that I was just listening to a minute ago. Only it sounded much better. Much… _fresher_. Like he had just finished writing it hours before. I was glad that I was getting to listen to it again. Like I said, it was very Hermione.

She closed her eyes and swayed to the music. I started swaying, too. The song filled me with happy memories of Hermione; I think that was her intention when she charmed the book with this memory.

_Twilight _finished with a slow, smooth high note.

"That was beautiful," Hermione murmured.

Yes, it was.

Blake bent over towards a small basket filled with music books next to the piano, plucking _the _booklet from inside and giving it to Hermione. The booklet he had pulled from the box a few minutes ago. "Here it is. All four pages of it."

"Really?" Hermione said. She took the booklet. "Thank you."

Blacke took a deep breath. "Hermione… I-I… I just wanted to say I'm going to miss you. A lot. I wish you didn't have to go to that school."

"I'm sorry, Blake," she replied, looking down at the booklet. "But I don't really have an option. I mean, it's not like I _have _to go… but my friends. They need me a lot there."

I cracked a smile. Yeah, we did. I always needed her.

"Well… I guess this is it then."

"Yep."

"But Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"This was more than just a summer fling to me, you know. This was something special."

"I couldn't agree more."

And then the memory ended, and I was thrust back into reality—a horrible place where Hermione was gone.

* * *

**A/N:**

I know. It's been a treacherous amount of time since I last posted. I got a horrible case of writer's block and then had loads of schoolwork... but this chapter is here now, and I hope you'll forgive me. However, I'm sorry to say I can't make any promises that my updating will get any better. I've got final exams coming up, and then I'll be off to China for two weeks up until the beginning of July. I'll try to get another chapter in on at least one of my stories sometime until then, though.

I'm so glad that I've gotten so many reviews on this story, both good, bad, or in the middle. I like getting mixed feedback. I was half worried and half hoping this story was going to be a bit controversial, what with the plot line and and me being a Dramione fan. But honestly, if you ever thought I was going to disrespect these characters in some of the ways a few reviewers have described, then you must think _extremely_ poorly of me. Also, I can take criticism as well as anyone, but some criticism was presented in an utterly cruel way, especially considering I'd only posted the first chapter.

*******SPOILER!* ***SPOILER!*  
However, for those who want to know one of Hermione's boyfriends was intended to be Draco, though she would never cheat on Ron. For one, that would be extremely out of character for Hermione-Yes, I know, even the _idea_ of Draco/Hermione is stretching it, too-and also, I would never write something that terrible happening to Ron. A character cheating on another is something that will never happen in my stories.**  
SPOILER END**

Sigh. Glad I got that off my chest. It's been bugging me for a bit. But I'm stepping off my soapbox now and apologizing to anyone who had to suffer through that rant-thinger when they've been perfectly friendly, or whose eyes accidentally stumbled on the spoiler when they didn't want to know what would happen .

Anyway, I'm going to finish this extremely long author's note now and ask that you review. Like with most authors, criticism is always welcome, though please don't flame or say anything mean. Thanks to all of those wonderful people who have given me honest, kind reviews, if not positive ones.

Yours ever,  
~Weaver


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